


sometimes all i think about is you

by daelos



Series: one more and then i'll say [2]
Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Biting, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Coming Untouched, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, juyeon (holding back tears): i think changmin is really neat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daelos/pseuds/daelos
Summary: The truth is that Juyeon has always been kind of taken with Changmin, and not in a way that he’s ever known affection to manifest before.
Relationships: Ji Changmin | Q/Lee Juyeon
Series: one more and then i'll say [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962154
Comments: 20
Kudos: 184





	sometimes all i think about is you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juyomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juyomi/gifts).



> watering the jukyu tag with mine own hands (•̀o•́)ง !!! titled after/somewhat inspired by heat waves by glass animals. also this narrative skips around non-chronologically but every scene takes place in 2020 so hopefully there's no confusion!

**04: august**

Changmin’s new haircut makes his cheeks softer and fuller in the thin studio light. He’s almost academically tidy with his brows and ears exposed to the coming autumn chill like a college student, or maybe a fresh graduate just starting a salaried job. Someone who would wear glasses and an overlarge sweater to write coffeeshop essays into the bracing first week of October, or else a slim-fit suit with a tie wrapping the base of his elegant neck like a gift.

“Hello? Juyeon hyung?” repeats Eric, flapping one hand across Juyeon’s line of sight. “You completely zoned out.”

Juyeon’s gaze peels away sticky with reluctance, duct tape. “I’m listening,” he lies absently.

“You weren’t, but that’s okay.” Eric doesn’t miss a beat, sliding his phone into the pocket of his track pants and bouncing to his feet. “I said you’re up next to record. Remember?”

Across the room, Changmin tries to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear, but it’s too short now and springs back out. He’s so cute. He’s so cute that just looking at him makes Juyeon feel as if a living, purring cat has dropped onto his chest and warmed his ribcage through. That pressure builds when Changmin flutters a hand up to fix his bangs and realizes anew that there’s hardly anything there anymore.

“Right,” says Juyeon, trying to look at his own hands or the stress breakout creeping out from under Eric’s mask or the ugly carpet instead. Anything but Changmin. “I’m focused.” He doesn’t want to focus on anything but Changmin.

Eric is kind enough to let this one go.

The recording session goes as well as it must. Juyeon’s long since become an expert at compartmentalizing: Changmin goes into the box in delicate parts, memories wrapped in tissue paper for later unpacking. Today’s harvest includes the way Changmin had burst out laughing over lunch when Younghoon’s sleeve became a casualty to spilled ponzu sauce and the snug zip of Changmin’s jacket against his Adam’s apple. Juyeon’s fascination with Changmin’s neck is beginning to border on vampiric, probably, but that’s a problem to confront another time.

In the box adjacent, Juyeon leans into the studio mic and sings a dozen subtle variations of his allotted lines, tweaking the pitch in accordance with producer directions. For all the parts of himself he’s willingly forked over for a music career, this slice of it isn’t so much his thing. Instead, he imagines The Stealer’s choreography blooming to life onstage. Imagines Changmin anchoring the chorus and smiles to himself, the curl of his lip creeping into his inflection.

“That was the one,” declares a sound engineer through the glass wall. “Your tone was exactly right.”

“We’re getting really close,” sighs Eric that night, bumping his hip to Juyeon’s when he reaches for the hand towel. “I’ve missed promoting. Aren’t you excited?”

Changmin appears then with his hood drawn up and eyes puffy. Juyeon watches him, helpless and reflexive. He thinks of the teaser photos they’d taken, Changmin posing, thighs splayed, with a choker around his neck. ( _Collar,_ his mind supplies while Changmin squats to rummage through the fridge.)

“I’m excited,” Juyeon says truthfully. He already thrills at concepts like this. Changmin in cropped satin and layered chains is more than a cherry on top.

Eric peeks at Changmin, who keeps his head carefully ducked behind the fridge door. Juyeon waits for him to extend the question again, but the quiet endures. Some expedited cost-benefit analysis in Eric’s head seems to have led him to the conclusion that silence is better.

A moment later, Changmin straightens and leaves without having taken anything with him or spoken to either of them.

The lid comes off the box. Juyeon doesn’t unpack on purpose, but it’s flying into motion before he has time to slap his own wrist. Here is the image of Changmin’s smile frozen over the flattened takeout cartons, and here is Changmin’s throat quivering before he speaks, and here is the hot phantom of Changmin’s hand skating down Juyeon’s side, his arm, into his pocket. Juyeon thinks, _Changmin used to touch me so much,_ and then he thinks, _I never had to ask him._ Changmin had long ago become adept at soothing Juyeon’s reservations, meeting him halfway. 

When Juyeon craves tactile reassurance, he does it with all the finesse of a kitten, bumping at chests and shoulders until someone else realizes and sweeps him into a hug. In fact, Changmin is the very best at this. Changmin can read Juyeon with barely a glance, except for when he chooses not to look at all.

“Do you think he’s feeling okay?” Juyeon waits until Changmin’s door has closed to ask.

“Everyone feels weird when the seasons are changing,” says Eric. “I woke up with a sore throat for three days straight and thought I was coming down with something for sure. Turns out I just needed to drink more water.”

“Not like that. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Eric answers lightly. “Changmin hyung is… well, you’d know better than anyone else.”

Juyeon pauses, alarmed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wow, look at the time—”

“Eric,” says Juyeon. “It’s like ten in the evening.”

“Definitely past my bedtime, then.” Eric glides out of reach, a little apologetic, but not enough to let himself get cornered into a heart-to-heart at the kitchen table. “I should go, um, call my mom. Night!”

“You—” begins Juyeon, but it’s too late to get another word in. He swallows the plaintive geyser bubbling at the back of his throat and stares instead at the countertop, the dishwater puddling in the sink, the towel hanging askew. There are others he could go to, he supposes, with questions like this. Sangyeon would no doubt try to work it through with him, and Kevin is a resourceful distributor of advice even if he pulls most of it out his ass with a flourish. But the only one who could give him answers is Changmin, who these days is more tightly-wound than ever and perhaps doesn’t want to speak to Juyeon, anyway.

Which is, you know, it’s fine. Friends don’t have to see each other all the time. Giving each other space should be no hardship.

Juyeon is in the shower when the crucial conclusion finally dawns on him. Accommodating for a little extra space would be no hardship were it anyone else. However, Juyeon has regularly been dedicating more of his day to thinking about Changmin’s dimple than to remembering to eat three meals, and the dreadful implication follows after a pause so long that some of Juyeon’s shampoo trickles into his slack mouth in the intermission.

He coughs out the bitter aftertaste of soap. This can’t end well.

**02: june**

It’s so humid even inside that Juyeon’s bangs wilted against his forehead within minutes. Now they hang damp over his brow, nurturing droplets of sweat to fullness at his hairline and occasionally slipping one past the corners of his bleary eyes. He bumps an empty beer can with his elbow when he shifts, and it goes clattering across the table. Chanhee catches it neatly before it dives off the edge.

“Clumsy,” Chanhee yawns, not concerned enough to be reprimanding. He’s thoroughly flushed, a hazy delay to the flitting of his eyes, but to be fair, he’d downed quite a lot before tapping out for the night—even as he wrinkled his nose primly at each sip. 

Beside him is Changmin, stolid as he taps out a text and barely tipsy as far as Juyeon can tell. It’s unfair, Juyeon wants to say, because he’s here slumped halfway off the couch and increasingly troubled by arranging subjects, objects and verbs in the right order. Since they’d started drinking, Changmin has plowed through all the soju within his reach and finished off the can of Cass that Jacob popped open before he fell asleep on Sangyeon’s shoulder. Changmin should be at least en route to fucked up by now, and yet—

“Hey, you’ll fall,” says Kevin, grabbing Juyeon’s arm. “You’re, like, gone.”

Juyeon makes a vaguely animal noise of assent.

“Yeah, we’re not giving you any more. Does anyone want to take Juyeon to his room?”

“No,” says Chanhee, muffled because he’s plunked his head onto crossed arms.

“No,” chirps Sunwoo even though he wasn’t really being addressed. Younghoon, who should be somewhat obliged, pretends not to have heard.

Kevin huffs. “So it’s my job?”

“Let me,” says Changmin, then seems to reconsider his phrasing. “I mean, don’t worry. I’ll help him.”

“So nice,” mumbles Juyeon into Kevin’s sleeve. He thinks he’s sliding off the couch again.

Changmin is beside him in another moment, hauling him up by the armpits and staggering under the limp entirety of Juyeon’s weight. He gets a handle on it after some readjusting; despite their height disparity, Changmin has the advantage of being very much less intoxicated. He tsks good-naturedly about it while he helps Juyeon’s arm around his neck. “Come on, let’s rest.”

Juyeon concurs, sagging onto Changmin’s shoulder. Were he more present he would’ve felt a dozen times more embarrassed to be walked to bed like this, generally a nuisance, but as it is the overhead lights glare too fiercely for him to do much besides scrunch his eyes shut against the collar of Changmin’s shirt. It’s soft, he registers through the daze. Like most of Changmin, or the parts Juyeon likes best, anyway. He smells nice too, like powder and clean sweat and something evergreen. Juyeon turns his face and breathes it in openmouthed.

“What are you, a dog?” Changmin’s shoulder jerks, ticklish, but he’s smiling.

“Could be,” says Juyeon. They turn the corner, Changmin careful to account for all of Juyeon’s flaily limbs. “If you asked. I’d think about it.”

“I’m already a dog owner,” says Changmin. “You’d have to compete with Ghana.”

“For your attention?”

“Yeah, and I can’t guarantee you’d win.” Changmin steers them into Juyeon and Younghoon’s room, generously leaving it dark aside from the scented candle that Juyeon had left burning earlier that evening. He’s been in here more than enough times to navigate without hesitation. “It smells nice in here, by the way.”

“I’d try,” says Juyeon, disgruntled as Changmin sits him down on the bed. “Just, like.” He sways gracelessly for a moment. “Whatever you asked, I’d… try for you…”

“Hey, hey, sit up.” A hand between his shoulder blades. Another hand pressing something cool into his palm. A sigh as Juyeon fumbles with the cap, then the warm impression of Changmin’s body when he leans in to open it. “How on earth did you manage to get so drunk? You don’t know your tolerance?”

“I—”

“Wait, drink the water first.”

Juyeon takes a long swig and doesn’t even flinch when half a mouthful drips in a cold shock down his front. “It didn’t, um, seem important. So I don’t know.”

“And today had to be the day to experiment, huh?”

“What about you?” Juyeon cracks his eyes open. He wants to see Changmin, even silhouetted and grainy in the flickering candlelight. He wants to see Changmin always. “How are you okay? You had so much.”

Changmin snorts. “I’m feeling it, don’t worry. Just seems like I’m better at holding it.”

“Hmm.” Juyeon’s lids droop and Changmin takes a ginger step back.

“You’re good now, yeah? I’ll go—”

“No, no,” says Juyeon, reaching out blindly. He manages a fistful of Changmin’s shirt, thin and cottony as he bunches it in his palm and reels Changmin in. “Changmin-ah, don’t leave.”

He feels more than sees the shuddery intake of breath that passes through Changmin like a ghost, the minute seizing of his chest, the tension of his stomach against Juyeon’s hand spread flat. Juyeon finds his way to the dip of Changmin’s waist, the shallow give he loves so much. They’re caught still for a moment. The A/C roars faintly to life and stirs the skirts of Juyeon’s bed sheets. Changmin shivers, just slightly, and Juyeon pulls him closer for warmth. Lets his hands fall to the small of Changmin’s back and bows his forehead against the place where his rib cage diverges as if he could crawl inside the cradle of Changmin’s bones.

Wondrously, the moment lasts. Changmin cards a hand through Juyeon’s hair after another second. Tender—giving himself away. “Your hair is getting long,” he murmurs. Juyeon feels the rumble in his cheek.

“Yeah.”

Changmin’s other hand comes up. Juyeon looks up obligingly, allowing Changmin to hold him in place. Both hands cupped, the way you hold a small animal or a chocolate wrapped in foil. Juyeon is too drunk to organize his analogies.

“Changmin-ah,” says Juyeon again, hopeful now that his vision’s adjusted enough to the dark for him to make out Changmin’s whole face softening. “Kiss me?”

“You’re too much,” says Changmin, not without fondness.

Juyeon isn’t above pouting. “You won’t?”

“We can’t do anything now—the others would hear, and they’ll know if I don’t come back out…”

_So let them know,_ Juyeon wants to say. It’s been ages since they’ve touched so intimately, and this proximity alone is a revelation. Since that first time Changmin had come onto him, they’ve had increasingly few opportunities for a moment to themselves. Never mind fucking—they’ve barely had time for mutual handjobs in the shower, Changmin blowing Juyeon once while Younghoon was in the room over distracted by Sunwoo soundly kicking his ass at PUBG, and the singular, unspeakably cruel occasion that Juyeon had gotten Changmin wet and open on his fingers only for Chanhee to rattle the door handle demanding that Juyeon return his phone charger. As it turns out, the group being on a break doesn’t mean that everybody else is in your business any less; there’s just no schedule to it, which is kind of worse.

“That’s not what I meant,” says Juyeon, a tinge bashful. “Just kissing. I wanted to hold you a little longer.” He strokes the centimeter of cool skin where Changmin’s shirt has ridden up.

“You want a lot of things these days,” says Changmin, maneuvering Juyeon backwards regardless. He kneels on the bed between Juyeon’s parted thighs. It’s unwieldy; he has to watch his head given the top bunk, and the sheets slip under his knees, but little can deter how delicious it is to be this close.

Juyeon sighs when their lips meet. Changmin tastes of strawberry soju when he licks into Juyeon’s mouth— _he_ does it first. Desire is gripping him the same as it grips Juyeon. “It’s all because of you.”

Eyebrows raised, Changmin draws back. “Me?”

“Who else,” Juyeon says. “I was supposed to go back to quietly wanting nothing after—everything we did?”

Changmin finds his mouth again, slow and insistent. “Well, no,” he admits when they separate, so near that he’s almost speaking into Juyeon. “I couldn’t do that, either.”

There’s a _but_ in there somewhere, Juyeon can tell, and yet he’s at once too elated at having Changmin in his lap again and too afraid that Changmin will stop to ask. He gets the impression that this isn’t the time for a conversation with such gravity, either.

The alcohol finally looks to be catching up with Changmin, his gaze flickering somewhere around the neck of Juyeon’s shirt and his cheeks subtly fluorescent. Juyeon kisses him again and wishes that it was daytime so he could see Changmin turn scarlet. “Good,” is what Juyeon settles on. “It would be lonely if, you know. It was just me. Feeling this way.”

“Did Changmin hyung die?” comes Sunwoo’s voice, slurring and twisting down the hallway. “Changmin hyung! Are you dead?” A thud as he presumably knocks into the wall.

Changmin springs to his feet, all gentle airs evaporated. “No, I’m still in Juyeon’s room,” he calls back. “You okay?”

“Huh? I’m fine.” The door creaks and Sunwoo’s head pops through. “What were you guys doing in the dark?”

Juyeon licks his lips. The last traces of Changmin shimmer and lift off him like a mirage. The room is suddenly unbearably stuffy, the air too thick, the A/C traitorously quiet in Juyeon’s time of need. Sunwoo’s still waiting for an answer, clutching unsteadily at the doorframe.

“Nothing,” says Changmin finally. “I brought Juyeon some water.”

Blessedly out of commission, Sunwoo doesn’t press. “I want water, too.”

“I’ll get you some, come on.” Changmin glances back one last time as he begins herding Sunwoo to their room. He bends at the waist to blow out the candle, now so full of liquid wax that it threatens to engulf the remnants of the wick. But ultimately he says nothing else, leaving Juyeon alone to contend with the viscous gray of the night.

**05: september**

“Fifteen and we go again,” announces Sangyeon, pausing the music. There’s a grumble of agreement and the clump in the middle of the room splits off in all directions. Kevin comes to sit beside Juyeon, legs sliding out from under him as he sinks down the wall.

“It looks cooler every time,” he says. “Your outro. And your center part in the first chorus, like…” He makes an aborted gesture, wanting to imitate it, but exhaustion wins out. “I don’t know if anybody fits this whole Stealer concept as well as you do.”

Juyeon laughs. “You’re being too nice today. What do you want?”

“Nothing,” says Kevin, fiddling with the seam of his joggers, then: “I don’t know, you seem kind of out of it lately?”

“I’m alright,” says Juyeon, thrown. This is more of a problem than he’d realized if everyone is taking notice. He tries to shut up then and there, but his mouth has other ideas, moving before he can muzzle himself. “And I think Changminnie is a really good fit for the concept too…”

Kevin’s mouth gives a knowing twitch. “Changminnie?”

“Well, that’s,” flounders Juyeon, unsure of how to double back now without digging himself a bigger grave in the process. For someone who usually has to take his sweet time deliberating how to phrase every sentence, any and all thoughts relating to Changmin come out uncannily quick. “He’s the other main dancer, so,” he finishes lamely.

“Sure,” says Kevin, looking straight through him.

Juyeon bites his tongue and turns away. It’s just his luck that Changmin is passing by right when he swivels his head, so he catches a long, almost slow-motion reel of Changmin shaking out his sweat-dampened hair and mopping the glistening side of his neck. Always his neck, Juyeon thinks miserably. He spares a second to imagine biting it, that wet junction at his shoulder where his tendons strain in a way that probably isn’t so alluring to people not suffering from Changmin Sexy Syndrome. Sane people, that is.

He shelves the frustration until practice is over, only for it to well back up with a vengeance in the tired swath of night primarily reserved for trooping back to the dorm and trying not to pass out cold in the shower. There is no room in Juyeon’s schedule for infatuation. Unfortunately, his brain did not take the liberty of checking on whether or not pining was an acceptable new hobby before saddling him with the baggage and leaving him to make do.

The truth is that Juyeon has always been kind of taken with Changmin, and not in a way that he’s ever known affection to manifest before. He’s had close friends and role models and dongsaengs to dote on and he’s had crushes, obviously, but Changmin was so different from all of the above that he never stopped to dwell on what exactly that might mean. That is, until they were fucking in Juyeon and Younghoon’s room and Juyeon wanted to do it again the minute they were done. The sex was good, so it was in Juyeon’s interest to frame it retroactively as something inconsequential they could make a habit of—and Changmin, for his part, had spoken of it much the same.

Except now when he recalls that first time, he thinks he’d meant everything too earnestly for them to continue on as they were. Praising Changmin comes naturally because if Juyeon isn’t saying it out loud, he’s more than likely thinking it. How Changmin pulls him like quicksand, like opposing magnets, how beautiful he is on top of being charming and resilient and ferociously talented. Juyeon doesn’t just want to fuck Changmin. He also wants to kiss the toothpaste foam off the corner of his mouth and listen to his heartbeat before drifting off to sleep and smile at him like he wouldn’t for anyone else, a private sort of happiness living only between the two of them.

Juyeon frowns into the mirror. His dark circles have gotten worse.

“Hey.” Younghoon raps on the door. “Are you done?”

“Yeah, it’s all yours.” 

Though Juyeon had tried to be casual about brushing past, Younghoon still stops and squints at him. 

“I’m fine,” says Juyeon quickly.

“Okay,” says Younghoon, cracking a smile, “I was just going to tell you there’s still some cleanser on your jaw. You didn’t rinse it properly.”

“Oh.” Juyeon feels around for the offending bubbles and wipes them off with the back of his hand. “Thanks. Um, good night.” He attempts to will away the embarrassment as he hurries to bed, and Younghoon has already vanished into the bathroom without another word, but still his heartbeat picks up. At the rate he’s going, everyone will be able to read the truth on his face from a single glance, Changmin included. 

Breakfast the following morning is uncomfortable for no reason, and to no one besides Juyeon, probably. Eric regales the table with a sneak peek of experimental lyrics that Sunwoo had shown him the night before, and Kevin ladles extra broth into Juyeon’s bowl while pretending to be engrossed with Haknyeon’s bedhead.

Changmin picks at his rice in relative silence. His eyes dart up to meet Juyeon’s only once, and Juyeon doesn’t know what kind of sentimentality his face betrayed in that split second, but it’s enough for Changmin to disappear from the table not five minutes later.

Hyunjae drops into the vacant seat and says, archly, “What?” when Juyeon continues to radiate mopey vibrations in that general direction.

“Nothing,” say Juyeon, Kevin and Eric, all within a second of each other. The other two are graceful enough to giggle about it immediately, but Juyeon’s own laughter follows a beat late. He downs a glass of water as a cover-up and concentrates on shaping his smile sincere.

The day’s itinerary is another unremarkable block of practice. Jacob and Kevin plan to do a V Live sometime in the evening, and Chanhee mentions a movie he and Changmin have been meaning to watch together. Juyeon briefly contemplates the opening: is it desperate to join them? It’s been weeks since he’s spent time with Changmin that way, tucked away from the clamor of the entire group, and Chanhee being there would help alleviate the tension. 

Then he gets stuck on the fact that it would be tense at all, hurt despite himself, and misses the chance to ask. It’s likely for the better, anyway. Changmin isn’t one to come around through wheedling or coercion, and Juyeon markedly sucks at both. In the entire history of their friendship, it’s always been Changmin with the gift for persuasion and Juyeon who bends. Juyeon who is malleable, who molds himself to fit where needed, however you want him.

A new thought creeps venomously into Juyeon’s mind before he can close doors. Did Changmin want him because he was… easy? Because Changmin knew that Juyeon would give him what he desired, so their being together was a matter of convenience?

_He still could’ve gotten it from someone else,_ protests the part of Juyeon that’s either foolishly hopeful or prideful or both. _He went to you._

For a while, at least. But recently he’s stopped altogether, so maybe Juyeon has served his purpose. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time he’s assumed goodwill and been let down after the fact. It would, however, mark the first time that Juyeon has wanted so much and so earnestly. Moving on might not be as linear. Emptying himself of love for Changmin, who is lovable by virtue of breathing and more so because he’s allowed Juyeon to feel special… Juyeon would rather not imagine how long that’d take.

It’s getting colder out by the day, so Juyeon slips back to his room to grab a hoodie before they leave for the company building. In the process, he runs smack into Changmin, who squeaks and averts his gaze expeditiously.

Changmin coughs. “Sorry.” The timbre of his voice is odd.

“It’s okay,” says Juyeon. “My fault.”

“No!”

Juyeon blinks at him. Changmin goes belatedly red upon realizing the force of his objection.

“I mean, it was my fault. Not yours,” explains Changmin, soft. “It’s not you.”

An emotion with thorns crawls up the back of Juyeon’s throat. Changmin’s hair is still pillow-mussed and his dimple makes a nervous appearance while he waits for a response. Juyeon thinks about kissing him, and Changmin’s lips part.

“Okay,” repeats Juyeon eventually and politely sidesteps Changmin to get to his room. He pauses for a moment at the door, which hangs just a centimeter ajar. He’s almost positive he’d closed it before leaving.

**03: july**

Juyeon and Hyunjae are the last to arrive at the restaurant. Chanhee had griped at length in the group chat about men who work out holding up the entire group’s dinner plans even though Juyeon had insisted that everyone start eating without them. Still, Juyeon is glad when Kevin flags them down and the table is empty but for bubbling pots of soup base. He wouldn’t have been wounded if they’d gone ahead, but the small display of consideration warms him.

Hyunjae, who doesn’t care either way, hip checks Juyeon into the booth and squeezes in himself without giving Juyeon time to sort out his legs. Juyeon’s foot bumps someone else’s under the table—Changmin, he realizes when he looks up to apologize. Changmin doesn’t seem to notice anyway, so Juyeon lets it go. Sangyeon has already ordered for the group, but he leans down the table to tell Juyeon and Hyunjae to add anything else they want. 

“You kept saying you were hungry earlier.” Hyunjae nudges Juyeon. “Meat, right? Lots of meat.”

Juyeon hums, dropping his chin to Hyunjae’s shoulder. “I want to eat beef, since it’s Sangyeon hyung’s treat today.”

“Me too,” Hyunjae agrees, skimming the platter options.

Juyeon feels the dregs of post-workout adrenaline settle to silence in his belly, and a contented kind of tiredness is swift to replace it. Despite how loud it is here, the chatter of patrons and the members and the fragrant, spicy hot pot steam wafting over to every corner of the restaurant, he suddenly thinks that he could fall asleep like this. His lashes dip against Hyunjae’s collar. He suspects that the jacket Hyunjae is wearing probably belongs to him, thieved from the back of the couch while Juyeon was showering, but he’s not bothered enough to ask.

“Hey, wake up.” Hyunjae laughs, smushing Juyeon’s cheeks in one hand. “What happened to being hungry?”

“Still am,” mumbles Juyeon as best as he can with his mouth forced into fish lips. “Just got sleepy, too.”

“I won’t save any food for you if you knock out by the time it comes,” declares Hyunjae, letting go. “Not even if you get all sad later. Not even if you try to be cute about it.” His hand flits to the back of Juyeon’s head for a half-second, petting the short-cropped nape of his neck. “So sit up, okay?” 

Sighing, Juyeon straightens against the upholstered booth and catches Changmin looking at them with something inscrutable puddling in his eyes, brow drawn just a bit tight. 

“Hi, Changmin-ah,” says Juyeon cautiously.

Changmin startles and seems to remember where they are. “Hey,” he returns, a little delayed. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

It makes Juyeon smile on instinct, the pout in Changmin’s voice a balm for his weary edges. He likes the way Changmin talks, that habit of leaving most consonants unaspirated and the bounciness to his syllables like he’s always holding something in the pocket of his cheek. Juyeon finds it hopelessly endearing, even though Chanhee has ribbed Changmin on multiple occasions about what he calls a medically incurable commitment to aegyo voice. _Cute boy Q,_ he’ll say, rolling his eyes, and then Changmin will sneer at him from across the living room.

In all honesty, Juyeon has yet to meet a single idiosyncrasy of Changmin’s that he doesn’t like. He wonders for a second what that says about him before he remembers they’re supposed to be mid-conversation.

“Yeah,” Juyeon says, “you and Chanhee had already gone out by the time I woke up, so.”

Chanhee perks up at his name. “You should see what Changminnie bought today. It’s actually kind of sad how—”

“Shut _up_ ,” yelps Changmin and claps a hand over Chanhee’s mouth. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Juyeon looks between them for a moment. Changmin is pinking too fast for it to be explained away on the boiling soup, and Chanhee wears smugness like a runway model, letting it hang off him with practiced nonchalance. Juyeon’s never been good at knowing when to ask.

“As soon as you take your hand off,” says Chanhee, muffled, “I can still—”

“I’ll bite you,” threatens Changmin. 

“Ji Changmin! We’re in public!”

Changmin opens his mouth wide.

“Okay okay okay, I got it, I got it, damn,” says Chanhee, recoiling. He shoves off Changmin’s hand and makes a show of opening his front camera to rearrange his mannequin-perfect bangs. “The purchase which shall not be named. You’re ridiculous.”

Juyeon toys with the empty plates laid out in front of them. “I, um, I guess I shouldn’t…?”

“Don’t worry about it,” says Changmin, all the breath in him rushing out at once. He deflates over his utensils and locks his attention on the beads of condensation engaged in a race down the side of his water glass. “Juyeon-ah,” he adds, glancing up through his lashes. 

The eye contact falters as abruptly as it was initiated, but it settles Juyeon nonetheless. Changmin is one of the few people who seems to not only forgive Juyeon for his gauche way with words but understand it, too, so Juyeon long ago took it upon himself to get acquainted with Changmin’s own signals. This almost sheepish, olive-branch sort of affection might be his favorite: Juyeon likes how any iteration of his name will spill from Changmin’s mouth honeyed. Juyeon is, well, he’s a fan of Changmin’s mouth in general.

But he recognizes also that Changmin and Chanhee put together communicate on an entirely different frequency from the rest of humankind, something like a dog whistle, and so he smiles back at Changmin and says no more about it. Juyeon doesn’t need to hear everything. If it’s important, Changmin will tell him when he’s ready.

“Do that again,” gasps Changmin, grabbing at Juyeon’s collar. He slots a knee between Juyeon’s thighs and backs him against the cold tile of the bathroom wall.

Juyeon grins. He can see it reflected in the mirror, a crooked slice of light, his chin digging into Changmin’s shoulder. His hands traveling up Changmin’s back, pushing one of those checkered shirts he’s always wearing into rumpled hills so he can soak up the feverish warmth of Changmin’s bare waist. “This?”

Changmin throws his head back as Juyeon bites at the junction of throat and trapezius with a mouth wet and open. “Yes,” he whispers. It crumbles into a low moan as Juyeon palms him over his pants.

The knowledge that Changmin is just as into his neck being touched as Juyeon is into touching it goes down like a shot, burning something fierce in Juyeon’s breast. It’s not an exaggeration to say he likes whatever Changmin likes, but that’s because he works so hard to please. This—the natural collision of their wants, the way Changmin trembles as Juyeon sucks a bruise darker than he has any right to be leaving—is different. This is better.

“We should at least get a stall,” says Changmin even as he wraps one hand around the back of Juyeon’s head to hold him in place. “Anybody could—ah.”

Juyeon slips two fingers past Changmin’s waistband, not doing anything terribly scandalous yet. Curious. “Anybody could walk in on us, I know.”

The drumming of Changmin’s heart crescendoes. Juyeon could feel it even before, pressed up against each other as they are, but now it swings with renewed momentum, threatening to smash out of his ribs and escape into the safety of Juyeon’s.

Uncertainly, Juyeon says, “Is that not…?” He doesn’t know what he meant to say after.

“Juyeon,” says Changmin, yanking his own zipper down and crowding Juyeon into the nearest stall. The door nearly slams behind him, but he doesn’t look back. He’s occupied with exploring Juyeon’s mouth dirty-sweet, fumbling for Juyeon’s belt, grinding them together. The evidence that he’s rock hard punches the air from Juyeon’s lungs. “Touch me.”

“Oh,” marvels Juyeon. “You liked that idea so much.”

Changmin groans. “Juyeon-ah, _please_.”

“Well, you did ask nicely.” Juyeon takes them both in hand and strokes once, hesitant to add pressure. “You’re already this wet?”

“So what,” says Changmin desperately, tonguing at the hinge of Juyeon’s jaw as he fucks into his fist. “Of course I am, you’re so—you’re—”

“Yeah,” says Juyeon and tightens the circle of his fingers on the upstroke. “Me too. I also… about you.”

“Really?”

Juyeon almost snorts. Hiding his cards isn’t exactly his forte. “You know that.”

“Then tell me again.” Changmin licks over the shell of his ear. “I’m still asking nicely.”

“You’re unreal. You’re gorgeous. I could kiss you all day and not get tired of it. I—when you wanted to, with me, that first time, I thought I was dreaming. And that’s what it felt like, too. Everything with you is good.” Juyeon runs a fingertip over the flushed head of Changmin’s cock, then spits into his palm, gathering slick to make the slide even wetter, messier. Changmin’s hands clench and unclench in Juyeon’s shirt, manic as though an electric current is dancing through him. “You even like this. You want someone to walk into the bathroom right now and hear us? You’d get off on it?”

“Fuck,” breathes Changmin in answer to nothing in particular. “Keep going.”

“We didn’t even lock the door,” Juyeon admonishes gently, but hell if he’s not also getting off on it. “Imagine if they looked for a second too long—they’d see you like this—so pretty—”

And Changmin is coming in ribbons over Juyeon’s fist, his narrow frame heaving, a vibrant smear of blood welling up in the center of his bottom lip where he’d bitten through it like a grape. He laughs for a moment, a light, disbelieving sound, then kisses the blood into Juyeon’s mouth in something resembling thanks.

“Are you guys still in here or what?” comes Hyunjae’s voice seconds after the bathroom door bursts open. “Hello? We’re about to leave.”

Changmin ducks his face into Juyeon’s chest to muffle his ragged breath. Getting walked in on is less sexy when you’ve already finished, Juyeon supposes. Now he’s cornered here like an idiot with his dick out and Changmin’s come beginning to feel like crime scene evidence on his fingers.

“Could I have missed them on the way in?” muses Hyunjae. He knocks on the stall nearest to him, a last effort, before stomping out in a huff.

There’s a long pause. “We should go,” says Changmin. “Um, not at the same time. Do you need me to take care of that or do you…?”

“No, I’m fine,” says Juyeon, tucking himself in with his dry hand though he’s still achingly hard. “You go first.” The hinges of the stall door creak shrilly when they step out, passing judgement on them both. 

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll clean up in here for a minute.” Juyeon busies himself with the paper towel dispenser. 

Changmin eyes him. “Okay,” he says, running his hands under the tap, then flattening his hair with wet palms. There’s not much to be done about the blood on his lip. He licks off what he can, wincing. “Then I’ll just.” His collar shifts for a moment to betray the purpling mark at his throat. He readjusts it right away, and Juyeon has to admit that he could believe nothing happened. Changmin’s composure is unshakable when he focuses on holding it up. 

“Bye,” Changmin mutters, and the bathroom door slams heavy before Juyeon can say a single word back.

**01: january**

Juyeon’s birthday this year falls on a filming day with little fanfare surrounding it. It doesn’t bother him. He’s always liked having an early birthday because the excitement of the new year lingers and buzzes, and people seldom forget to wish him. The fans have already flooded the group’s official accounts with congratulations and heartfelt letters, so much that scrolling through them all makes him a little shy.

The members, too, have planned in their own ways; Juyeon stumbled across the cake in the hallway before anyone could squirrel it away and drew a not insignificant degree of satisfaction from broadcasting the discovery on V Live. He glows quietly while they sing for him, and while they cheer, and while a new tide of heart emojis rolls into the comments section. Even when the celebration fizzles out and everyone has to get back to the shoot, Juyeon finds that he’s left wanting for nothing. 

Which is why it surprises him when Changmin lays two fingers to the pulse of Juyeon’s wrist as they’re straggling back to the dorm in the purple hours of morning-night. “Can you hold on for a second?” Changmin asks from behind lowered lashes, and who is Juyeon to deny him anything?

They’re stalled awkwardly outside the door now. Sunwoo and Chanhee, bringing up the rear of the group, shoot odd looks their way, but Juyeon jerks his head at Changmin and shrugs in semi-explanation. He doesn’t know what this is about, either. Still, it’s enough for the other two to sweep past them and shut the door, and suddenly Changmin’s gaze feels a dozen times more arresting.

Juyeon rocks onto the balls of his feet to try and distract from the January frost, biting even through long layers of padding. “Is something wrong?”

“I just—I didn’t wish you properly earlier,” says Changmin in an uncharacteristically meandering sort of tone. “Uh. Happy birthday, Juyeon-ah.” His chilly fingers slip beneath Juyeon’s sleeve cuff, whispering hesitantly over Juyeon’s knuckles.

Bewildered, Juyeon says, “Thanks? But you really already did.”

“I… yeah.” Changmin’s jaw works for a solid ten seconds as if grinding the next sentences he had lined up under his tongue into dust. “Hey, do you remember how we went ice skating last year?”

“Of course I do. It was only a year ago.”

“It was fun,” says Changmin. “With you.”

Juyeon blinks at him. “Yeah, for me, too. I’m glad we got to go.”

“Right.” Changmin looks increasingly frustrated the longer this fragmented conversation goes on. “Shit, this isn’t what I wanted to say.”

“Well, we could go inside and you can think about it while we warm up, maybe? It’s freezing out here.” One arm curls around Changmin’s waist, where Juyeon’s touches always seem to gravitate before he has a chance to think about it. Changmin is warm against him, his padding thick and crinkling under the hesitant pressure of Juyeon’s palm. His cheeks are suffused with a watercolor wash of red that spreads further down his neck the more he tucks himself into Juyeon’s side.

“Wait! I wanted to finish talking out here. For privacy?”

“Oh?”

“Not because it’s like—this isn’t anything bad. Obviously.”

“Why are you so nervous?” says Juyeon, finally cracking a smile. “I thought I was the one who had trouble choosing his words.”

“You still are,” says Changmin, laughing a little too. “At least, you’re supposed to be.” He’s drawn so near, face turned up like a sunflower. Juyeon can feel Changmin’s breath on his own lips. A beat of silence, then: “Juyeon, I—”

Nothing follows. Juyeon opens his eyes—he hadn’t even noticed they’d drifted shut—to find Changmin gazing into the distance, chin quivering. The realization that he looks _afraid_ twinges painfully in Juyeon’s gut. It’s partly because Juyeon never, ever wants Changmin to feel like there’s anything he could say that would make Juyeon angry at him; it’s also because Juyeon knows that once Changmin has made up his mind to censor himself, there’s no hope of prying it out of him anytime soon.

“Let’s do better this year,” murmurs Changmin eventually. “And stay healthy while promoting. And take care of each other.” The sentiment, though sincere, lands a far throw from the sacred kind of quiet he’d maintained before.

“Naturally,” agrees Juyeon. His hand tightens over the curve of Changmin’s hip, drawing a miniscule shiver. “You’re sure everything’s okay?”

Changmin’s mouth quirks up. Wildly, Juyeon wonders if it’s as soft as it looks, then tries in vain to dispel the heat rushing to his head. He has no room for thoughts like these, not now, not ever.

“Everything will be,” says Changmin. “Hey, it started snowing.”

Juyeon startles and looks to the sky. Changmin is right. A gentle, glittering snowfall commenced while they were occupied, scattering crystals into Changmin’s hair and over the shoulders of his coat.

“Hold still, there’s a snowflake on your nose.” Changmin digs for his phone and swipes open the camera. “Smile? Or don’t, actually. Just look at me the way you were doing before.”

Self-conscious for no reason besides the heady force of Changmin’s full attention, Juyeon fixes his stare past the camera lens to the curve of Changmin’s single visible eye. He doesn’t know what kind of expression he makes, exactly, but it produces a blush on Changmin even heartier and redder than before. Or maybe that’s just the cold.

“I took a few,” says Changmin after a moment. He swipes through them at an angle Juyeon can’t make out. “All of them came out pretty.”

“Can I see?” Juyeon’s grab for the phone is swiftly blocked.

“I’ll post them to Twitter later and you can see along with the fans.”

“Come on, that’s not fair. What if they’re terrible and you’re lying to me, huh?”

Changmin smiles, full-bodied and magnetizing. A stray snowflake tumbles through the air and lands gracefully in the crescent of his perfect dimple. “I would never.”

“You’d better not,” Juyeon insists, although it emerges devoid of bite. “Can we go inside now, at least? We’re both going to catch a cold.”

“My immune system is actually made of steel,” says Changmin even as his teeth begin to chatter. He fumbles for the door handle with mostly frozen fingertips and bats away Juyeon’s attempts to help.

“Mine isn’t!”

Changmin ushers him inside with a hand to the small of his back. “Then I’ll just have to nurse you back to health. An extra birthday present for you to cash in on.”

“You’d make a cute nurse,” Juyeon muses.

“Don’t push it,” Changmin warns, but the soft press of his palm doesn’t falter.

**06: september**

Despite how much they’d all desperately hoped for it, the success of The Boyz’s first comeback post-Road to Kingdom is overwhelming in all ways. Juyeon can’t put his phone down for days, refreshing charts and gaping at _their_ song still ranking so high, receiving more and more love from people who hadn’t even heard of them a few months ago. After everyone’s had ample time to process it, a tenuous, shimmering sort of happiness spreads through the entire group and lasts for days uninterrupted. Younghoon hardly frowns between recitations of his drama script, Chanhee doesn’t bother chasing after Sunwoo with the cooking spoon when he sneaks entire servings of meat right out of the still-steaming pot, and Changmin—and Changmin’s still—

Okay, so there’s one thing kind of weighing down Juyeon’s mood. He knows that Changmin is as delighted with their new accomplishments as anyone, but it hasn’t seemed to warm him up to Juyeon any. He gets on fine in group settings, but the minute it’s just him and Juyeon alone, he suddenly has somewhere important to be. Yesterday morning, they’d reached for the bathroom door at the same moment, and Changmin had snatched his hand away so fast anyone would think Juyeon was poisonous. He’s starting to feel like it, too, simmering with something darkly insistent every time Changmin makes an obvious ploy to avoid him. 

Juyeon suspects, though, that he won’t find the courage to breach the topic on his own. He recoils instinctively from confrontation, and beyond that, even, he has no idea how he would go about it. The way that Juyeon feels about Changmin was easy enough to navigate until he went and put a name to it, and now the thought of putting it out into the world between them is vaguely horrifying. Words mean things—things that Juyeon is too afraid to say, so he probes at the space around them as you would a loose tooth.

He even dreams about it once. Confessing to Changmin properly, like in the dramas, like something that Younghoon would star in. It was raining around them, he recalls foggily, and Changmin turned to him with his eyes wide and hair sopping wet, and instead of an umbrella to share, Juyeon had offered both hands up to him like prayer. “I like you more than anybody else,” he’d said, throat constricting around the admission.

Juyeon practices it in the mirror after washing his face, to the shower wall, to his bedroom ceiling. _I like you more than anybody else_ , he mouths, trying to mold the shapes of his lips and tongue into something less painfully awkward. In his dream, after his confession, they had kissed. In real life, Juyeon hasn’t felt the gentle press of Changmin’s mouth for the better part of two months, and at the rate they’re going, he doubts he ever will again.

In the end, though, Juyeon is not the one who has to make the first move.

He’s crossing the hallway back from the kitchen when Changmin appears in the doorway of his shared room and says, with a tight set to his jaw like he’s determined not to be embarrassed, “Can you come here a minute?”

Juyeon looks left and right.

“Yes, I’m talking to you,” says Changmin, exasperated. “Please?”

“Sure.” Juyeon meets him at the doorway. “What’s—oh!”

In one fluid motion, Changmin has wrenched him into the room and pushed the door shut. “Sunwoo and Kevin aren’t here,” he says, slipping his cool hands up the front of Juyeon’s worn-in shirt. “Eric and Chanhee are both napping. I checked. Everyone else went out.” His mouth descends on the base of Juyeon’s throat, open and wet. “We have an hour, I think.”

“Wait,” gasps Juyeon, “Changmin, hold on.”

Changmin draws back, already a little flushed. “You don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say th—” 

“I knew it. Never mind, forget I asked.”

Juyeon catches his shoulder in one hand. “Changmin-ah. What is this about?”

Steadily flushing deeper, Changmin says, “I just figured it’s been a while since we had a chance to do anything, that’s all. It’s fine that you don’t want to, I’ll just—you know. Anyway.” He squirms against Juyeon’s hold like an especially large fish. “Juyeon, let me go.”

“Not until you’re honest,” says Juyeon, feeling that dark, viscous frustration crest to a wave in the back of his throat. He’s tired of Changmin asking things of him that chafe at the already raw parts of his heart. He’s tired of not knowing whether Changmin wants this from him because of who he is to Changmin, or just because he’s available and willing.

“I wanted to fuck,” Changmin snaps. His voice is low and tight. “Can you leave now?”

Juyeon’s fingers twitch against the fleecy knit of Changmin’s sweatshirt. He thinks that it might have originally belonged to him, and this realization only adds to the irate spark in the pit of his belly. “Was that the whole truth?”

Changmin’s eyes cut to the side. “What do you want from me? An essay?”

“No,” says Juyeon, following his gaze to the tiny end table beside Changmin’s bed. There’s not much there except for a half-full glass of water and a couple scented candles. The same brand that Juyeon uses, that he faithfully repurchases. He thinks about Changmin slipping into his room when he was about to leave for practice that day, and about Changmin stealing half his wardrobe, and about the way that Changmin used to touch him first.

Words mean things that Juyeon is too afraid to say, so he probes at the space around them as you would a loose tooth. But sometimes your tongue pushes with just a fraction too much force and you feel it shift. It tugs at your gums. Juyeon senses it now—that threshold, the possibility of blood in his mouth, knowing that he might go too far. If he keeps heading this way, there will be a change that he cannot right. But he also physically can’t handle Changmin asking for this anymore without knowing why, the entirety of it, even if it means they never do this again. Across from him, Changmin looks suddenly nervous, and it occurs to Juyeon that maybe Changmin fears words the same way.

“I do want to,” begins Juyeon clumsily. “With you. But not if it’s only because I was the most convenient choice. Changmin-ah, I… fuck, I like…” He lets go of Changmin’s shoulder to sweep his hand across his furiously red face. “I like you more than anybody else,” he croaks finally. “You know? Like in the entire world. So I can’t keep doing this strictly casually if those are your conditions, because to me, it’s, you’re. You’re everything.”

“Oh,” Changmin says.

“Now I can leave.” Juyeon whirls around and grabs for the door handle, figuring he’ll die if he stands here any longer.

“No, wait,” says Changmin, reaching for him, and suddenly their roles are reversed. Now it’s Changmin chewing his lip, reaching inside himself for words he probably never wanted to find, and Juyeon itching to end this. “I don’t want to keep it casual.”

“You—what?”

“I like… you too,” says Changmin haltingly.

Juyeon’s jaw goes slack. “Is this a joke?”

“No! I like that you’re so caring, and how sometimes you don’t know where to put your arms when we learn new choreo because they’re so long. I like that you’re more innocent than you look and how the corners of your mouth curve up like a cat’s. I love when you call me your soulmate because it means you think I understand you, and I really try to because I never want you to… feel like there’s something you can’t tell me…” Changmin trails off, looking anywhere but Juyeon. He pulls the hood of his sweatshirt—Juyeon’s sweatshirt—up over his head and tightens the strings so aggressively that only his nose peeks out. “Fuck,” he says, with feeling.

“We could.” A warm, liquid rush of joy floods Juyeon all at once. “You said we have an hour, right? Well, minus a few minutes now. That’s still plenty of time.”

“Forget it,” says the Changmin-shaped blob in front of him. “I’m too embarrassed now. You should have stopped me before I said all that.”

“But I wanted to hear it.” Juyeon can’t stop smiling. “Changminnie, can I see your face, please?”

“I hate you,” says Changmin even as he tugs off the hood.

“You don’t,” croons Juyeon, walking him backwards to the bed. “You like me so much. Ah, I can’t believe this.” He buries his face in the crook of Changmin’s neck, laughing, and he can feel the shaking of Changmin’s chest when he starts laughing, too.

“Hey,” says Changmin when they’ve both stopped giggling at the ridiculousness of this all, cupping Juyeon’s cheek in one hand. 

“Hi,” whispers Juyeon back, and then they’re kissing for real, not in Juyeon’s dreams or up against the stall of a restaurant bathroom. They’re in Changmin’s bed, warm and rumpled, and Changmin is humming as he rolls his hips up into Juyeon’s. He smells so good, that clean, woody scent that nobody else in the dorm has even though they all share laundry detergent and shower products, that Juyeon wants to pull him somehow closer even though they’re already chest to chest. Juyeon wants to melt into Changmin’s body until neither of them can tell where one ends and the other begins. He actually whines when Changmin briefly shifts away to start shrugging his clothes off.

“You’re such a baby,” says Changmin, pleased. “I’m right here.”

Juyeon grabs for the hem of his own shirt and whips it off over his head, then starts on his pants. “Still never close enough.”

“Oh,” says Changmin, but this time it’s soft, marveling. Juyeon darts down to kiss the open circle of his mouth, sucking his bottom lip until it’s swollen red like a berry. They’ve both stripped down to hardly anything now, so Juyeon has free reign to continue kissing south over Changmin’s chin, his elegant neck, the dip of his collarbone and the beginning curve of his bare chest below. Changmin is so perfect, and Changmin wants him _back_ , and Juyeon can’t string the two thoughts together without smiling like an idiot. So he does, grinning against the give of Changmin’s stomach.

“What are you so happy about, huh?” Changmin paws at the band of Juyeon’s underwear.

“That I get to be yours,” Juyeon says, reveling in the sweet wash of pink that travels down Changmin’s torso in seconds. “Pretty big honor.”

“Yeah,” says Changmin, reaching for his own waistband and yanking it unceremoniously down. “Don’t fuck it up.”

Juyeon takes Changmin’s hard cock in hand, stroking up the length of him a couple times as he busies himself with sucking a bruise above his nipple. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on it.”

“That’s good,” breathes Changmin as he watches through half-lidded eyes. “Yeah, like that— _ah_ , fuck, you always—you read my mind.”

If it weren’t for his mouth full of dick, Juyeon would have vocally agreed. As it is, he focuses on relaxing his throat as he inches slowly down, holding Changmin down by the hips. He doesn’t think he’s very good at this—he’s never done it before—but he must be doing an okay enough job with the way Changmin moans sweetly, writhing under Juyeon’s hands.

Juyeon pulls off with a long lick to the underside of Changmin’s cock to say, “Hold still for me, okay?” before he’s going down again, doubly determined, hollowing his cheeks to add suction. Changmin _keens_ but obeys, shaking from the effort of self restraint. Juyeon tries to blink up at him between the tears gathering in his lashes. He wants to see the kind of face Changmin is making, knows that whatever it looks like, it’ll be well worth the ache in his jaw. And he’s not wrong—Changmin with his lip caught between his teeth and hazy wonderment in his eyes is the prettiest picture he’s ever been blessed with, prettier still when his chest begins to quiver.

“Juyeon, come on, I still want you to fuck me,” he pants, and Juyeon can’t well ignore that. He releases Changmin’s cock, sparing a few openmouthed kisses to the shaft before finally diverting his attention. Changmin fumbles under his pillow for the lube, warming it briefly against his hand before he passes it to Juyeon.

“Under your pillow? That’s a little gross.”

“Your mouth was on my dick ten seconds ago,” says Changmin, disbelieving, and Juyeon laughs.

Not only is Changmin every bit as incredibly tight as he remembers, he’s twice as receptive, moaning shamelessly when Juyeon twists his fingers and calls him beautiful. “You’re going to wake up Eric and Chanhee if you keep making noise like that,” says Juyeon, biting at the junction of Changmin’s neck and shoulder. His favorite place on Earth, possibly. He’d change his legal address to this exact location if he could. “Not that I don’t love hearing it, of course.”

Changmin winces. “Please never say either of those names again when we’re having sex.”

“My bad.” Juyeon prods at Changmin’s rim with a third finger, trying to file away the delicious way he shudders in his memory forever. “I’ll only say yours, then. You’re so good for me, so perfect, Changmin-ah, come on—”

“You talk too much,” says Changmin, pulling him into another kiss while Juyeon works him open. He seems to like it, though, his entire body trembling as if he can’t decide whether to grind down against Juyeon’s hand or up against his abs so his weeping cock can get some relief.

“Now that I know you like me too, I’ll never shut up,” Juyeon promises. The resulting smile that splits across Changmin’s face can only be described as angelic. 

Sex with Changmin is always good, but it’s become different now. It’s even headier, unexpectedly emotional, bringing tears to Changmin’s eyes when Juyeon lines himself up and pushes in and very nearly to Juyeon’s when he notices Changmin is crying. “Is everything okay?” he asks, immediately stilling. “You should tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

“It’s _fine_ ,” says Changmin, looping his arms around Juyeon’s neck and blinking furiously. “I’m just happy, that’s all.”

“Oh, baby,” says Juyeon softly, and Changmin hides his face against Juyeon’s collar.

“Keep going,” he mumbles. “We were just getting to the good part.”

Juyeon grins indulgently and pulls out slow, then slams his hips forward so hard that the smacking sound echoes. “Anything for you.”

The pace is fast, unrelenting from there, Changmin meeting Juyeon for every thrust, every push, clawing at his back and kissing wetly at his neck. The tears in his eyes have receded, but his lashes are still wet and clumped together, and there’s a patchwork of purpling bruises across the expanse of his throat. His mouth falls open when Juyeon fucks into a spot he particularly likes, his tongue glistening as he pants, and Juyeon sucks on it just to feel his full-body shiver. “Juyeon,” he groans when they part, “Juyeon, I think I’m going to come—”

“Here,” Juyeon begins to offer, reaching down, but Changmin shakes his head vehemently. 

“No, I mean like—” 

“Oh my god,” says Juyeon and bites him _hard_ at the meat of his shoulder, and he watches, spellbound, as Changmin comes untouched on his cock.

Later, after Changmin has sourced a towel to take care of most of the mess on his stomach and leaking down his thighs, and when Juyeon has an arm slung around his middle so that they’re pressed up together as close as humanly possible because Juyeon doesn’t think he can ever, ever get enough of this, something on Changmin’s phone catches his attention.

“What was that?” he asks, nosing at the nape of Changmin’s neck.

“What was what,” says Changmin, but he freezes like he knows he’s been caught.

Juyeon shifts up onto his elbow to get a better look. “Your homescreen.” Changmin’s finger hovers over the power button before he sighs and gives in. He swipes his messages shut, and there on his phone is a picture of Juyeon, bundled in padding, standing outside their dorm with a gentle flurry of snow haloing him. He’s looking at the camera with a expression so fond that Juyeon’s a little startled to see it on his own face. “Hey, you took that on my birthday! You said you’d post it.”

“Yeah, well, there was a change of plans,” says Changmin demurely. “This picture’s just for me.”

Juyeon huffs a laugh into Changmin’s hair. “Then you need to model for me sometime so I can return the favor.”

Changmin rolls over in the circle of his arms. “Take one right now.”

“No way,” answers Juyeon immediately. “I can’t pop a boner every time I unlock my phone in public.”

“You’re ridiculous,” says Changmin, but he’s glowing a warm, blissful pink.

“You like me anyway,” says Juyeon, and the phone drops forgotten onto the sheets when Changmin leans in to meet his lips halfway.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/tyongflan) or drop me a [cc](https://curiouscat.me/daelos) ♡


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